


The Ballad of Tycho and Spot

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Droids, Exposition, Flashbacks, I'm not sorry for the pun - not even a little, Languages, M/M, Original Character(s), original droid character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 18:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Tycho's relationship with his astromech has always been...civil. After Lusankya, he knows things need to change.





	The Ballad of Tycho and Spot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphorisnt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphorisnt/gifts).

> As is often the case, at least half of the good ideas in this are due to aphorisnt!

Tycho finally walks out the door of the cell New Republic Intelligence has been keeping him and leaves with Wedge. The feeling of freedom and of Wedge's hand in his again is nearly overwhelming. He doesn't think anything in the galaxy would be strong enough to separate them now.

They pass by the base's hangar as they head for the new quarters Tycho has been assigned, and Wedge comes to a stop near the entrance.

“There's someone else who wants to see you,” he says.

Tycho feels himself sag. He imagines there are a lot of people who want to see him. He pictures a sea of reunions stretching out before him, and the prospect is exhausting.

“Hey.” Wedge squeezes his arm encouragingly. “Just one friend, then we'll get you settled into your quarters. Trust me; they've missed you and worried about you nearly as much as I have.”

It's the “they” that does it. Tycho realizes who it must be just as Wedge steps aside to admit a red and black accented astromech with a large brownish stain covering half of its hemispherical head. It comes barreling across the hangar straight toward them, screeching and beeping fit to wake the dead.

Tycho can't help but grin. “Spot!”

The astromech gives a loud, derogatory beep as he stops in front of Tycho, then proceeds to jostle himself on his three feet, a few tools extended and waving for emphasis as he goes back to screaming in Binary.

Tycho chuckles. “I'm happy to see you, too, but if you want me to understand, you're going to have to slow down. I'm still learning.”

Spot goes silent and still as suddenly as if he'd been hit with an ion blast. A moment later comes a hesitant, inquiring whistle.

“Yes, I'm learning Binary,” Tycho confirms. “I needed something to fill my days while NRI kept me cooped up. Thought it might be nice to be able to talk to you without an interpreter – and other droids, of course. Useful. Wouldn't want you to get a big head.”

Spot blats dismissively, saying shortly that he wouldn't expect Tycho to do it just for him. Tycho smiles. Their relationship had always been...civil. When he'd first defected, he'd tried to refuse the astromech the Rebels had assigned him, claiming he didn't need the crutch, that he flew more than well enough on his own. Plus he'd thought the dinged-up, messy state of his unwanted partner said something about what his new allies thought of Tycho himself. Of course, that was before he found out pretty much all Alliance equipment looked like that.

It hadn't taken long for Tycho to grudgingly admit that flying with an astromech had its upsides – lots of them. He could still be confident in his own abilities yet have a helping hand if he was incapacitated, distracted, or needed additional brainpower in the middle of a battle. Plus, having never had to worry about hyperspace jumps in his TIE, he had had no practical experience with astrogation and had not taken well to the subject under Rebel tutelage, so it was a relief not to have to worry about it much.

Yet by the time the partnership had begun to work, it had already been too late. Though he understood Tycho's change of heart, Spot (and he'd hated the teasing nickname from the start, too), felt rejected. The damage was done. But when a tech had offered to wipe his memory so they could start again, Tycho had refused. This was another wrong he had done that it was his job to make right.

Yet he hadn't known how. Their relationship was cordial, their partnership efficient in the cockpit and otherwise at work, but they didn't spend time together outside of official duty. Tycho didn't know where Spot went during his free time – perhaps to the droid pool where his real friends were – but he didn't much mind as long as the astromech turned up when and where he was needed.

Things had only gotten worse when Tycho finally settled into his new squadron and started making friends – and more than friends. He'd liked Wedge Antilles from the beginning. He was a good soldier but willing to improvise and reinterpret orders when it needed to be done, a demon in the cockpit, smart – even funny when he dared let his guard down. And it was so hard back then for Wedge to let his guard down back then. The scars of Yavin had been so fresh – more open wounds, really – that he had refused to let anyone in. And yet eventually he had relented at Tycho's continued presence, friendship quickly blooming between them when he let it. Then one day Tycho had kissed him on the airfield as they prepared to leave for a mission, and everything just got better.

Spot had scolded Tycho the entire way to their jump point, bright green accusatory text on his display about the foolishness of letting himself get distracted now of all times, and how was the droid supposed to keep him alive when his mind was parsecs away focused on bodily urges? Tycho had simply tuned him out, choosing to replay the kiss over and over in his mind and grin giddily rather than try and explain love to an artificial lifeform.

The mission ended up being a roaring success, but it was only the beginning of Tycho's new relationship driving a wedge between he and his droid. Spot clearly viewed it as a distraction from their mission of justice and rebellion for all of them, and if he hadn't known better, Tycho would have said the droid was actually jealous of how much of his attention Wedge was getting.

The couple quickly discovered that one of their favorite things to do together was work on their X-wings, a task Tycho generally liked to have Spot present as backup for. But after the third incident of Tycho becoming so enamored with the way Wedge looked engaged with one of his true passions that his tool slipped from numb fingers and clanked off of Spot's dome, the droid had declared in no uncertain terms that he would not be present if the two humans were within sight of each other, because it made for a hazardous working environment. In retrospect, he hadn't been wrong, but the tiff had made Wedge laugh then blush when he realized his part in it, and Tycho certainly had a preference for which of them he'd rather spend time with when forced to choose.

At least Spot got Ty out of the situation. She and Wedge weren't close either, nothing when compared to partnerships like of Luke and R2 anyway, but their relationship was amiable. That still didn't mean the two astromechs couldn't be found conversing in various corners of whatever ship or base they found themselves on. Tycho hadn't spoken a beep of Binary then, but he'd known he and Wedge were being gossiped about. More like complained about, if the exasperated tones of the conversations were anything to go by. Well, Tycho had thought ruefully, maybe they did did deserve a little of it. Let the droids get it out of their systems.

Things continued like that. Tycho and Spot flew together; Spot complained about his recklessness but had to admit they were both still in one piece. Tycho kept seeing Wedge; Spot whined but had to admit their attraction hadn't gotten anyone killed yet.

Then came Hoth. Along with several of Rogue Squadron's astromechs – Ty, no doubt thanks to his influence – Spot rioted over the temporary shelving of their X-wings and attendant droids in favor of the far inferior snowspeeders. Tycho had silently agreed, and it was perhaps the first time he'd been a little bit proud of his grump of a droid, but the pilot knew his duty. Spot had refused to associate with him for weeks after that, instead keeping their abandoned X-wing company where it was being stored.

But when they finally scored an offworld mission, Spot was every bit as happy as Tycho to be back in space and together. Tycho can still remember his beeps of relief and delight, easily understood even without knowing the droid's language or looking at the display. For glorious hours, they had flown and fought together like no animosity had ever existed between them.

After the evacuation is the only time Tycho can remember Spot behaving himself for a concentrated period. The Alliance was struggling with its loses both in people dead and missing as well as equipment and information. The Rogues worked to right themselves without their commander. Wedge, suddenly thrust into that position himself, was under an incredible amount of stress, Tycho doing everything in his power to support him. During that time, Spot had always been on hand to offer assistance, run errands, help with datawork or cleaning and maintenance, and anything else he could do. Tycho had realized again exactly how valuable a member of their team the droid was.

Which maybe explained why Spot had seemed so betrayed when in the lead-up to the attack on the second Death Star, Tycho had accepted a temporary transfer to the A-wings of Green Squadron. The droid hadn't seemed to understand the pilot was willing to go wherever he was needed and, through a translation device he'd tracked down himself and pressed into Tycho's hands with a manipulator arm, insisted he needed to be there to watch Tycho's back during this most important mission yet, that that was his responsibility, and what was Tycho going to do if something happened and he didn't have that backup?

Tycho tried to explain that A-wing pilots generally managed just fine, it wasn't a ship wholly unfamiliar to him, and, after all, hadn't he survived flying without a droid for years before his defection? The conversation had ended with a sharply blatted retort about how apparently he had been wrong about being needed after all and good luck before Spot spun in place and wheeled off at top speed.

Tycho hadn't seen him again before the call to battle stations. Nor had he thought of the droid during the fight. There hadn't been time in the midst of fighting tooth and nail for the life of the Rebellion, not to mention his own. When he landed his borrowed fighter back on _Home One_, still half-dazzled by the destruction of the Death Star on his sensors and breathless with victory, he caught sight of Spot at the edge of the assembled crowd. They locked eyes and photoreceptors for a moment, and Tycho grinned cockily, a silent _I told you so._ Again, Spot turned away, but Tycho wasn't going to worry about his unruly droid when the galaxy had just scored such a huge victory.

Eventually the incident faded beneath the vital work of building and preserving the fledgling New Republic. There was precious little time to fan a grudge between constant attacks from surviving Imperials, power-hungry warlords, and would-be invaders from beyond the known galaxy.

Eventually, between attrition and her members moving on to various other things, Rogue Squadron's numbers dwindled and the group was disbanded. Luke went off to work on rebuilding the Jedi Order. Wes and Hobbie pursued the possibility of forming their own training squadron. Wedge was sent on a victory tour to kiss babies and shake the hands of politicians. Before Tycho and Spot had much time to wonder where they would go next, word came down that New Republic Intelligence was looking for a pilot to do a recon run to Coruscant. Land a TIE on the city-planet, spend a month collecting data, then fly out. Simple. Risky. But the help in future efforts to retake the galactic capital the information would provide was invaluable.

Tycho volunteered. With Wedge away and an uncertain future ahead, it was something solid he could do to help the continuing war effort. Spot, of course, was hell-bent on changing his mind or at least going along, but it wasn't possible. There was no room for a droid in the TIE, and Tycho couldn't very well fly an X-wing on an undercover mission, could he?

Tycho never forgot that last day in the hangar doing a final check of the TIE before heading out. Spot had come from nowhere to zoom over and begin berating him. He sounded angrier and more insistent than he'd ever seen him, but Tycho had merely sighed and told him his yelling wouldn't do any good without a translation device, and, anyway, it was far too late for Tycho to change his mind.

Which was about when the Force itself must have intervened, because along came a bored 3PO unit who Spot immediately turned his squawking on.

“Oh!” the newcomer exclaimed. “Is that really the sort of send-off you wish to give brave Captain Celchu?”

“What did the little troublemaker say?” Tycho asked.

“I'm sure I can't repeat it, sir!”

Tycho sighed. “Just tell me.”

“Very well, sir. I am not programmed to disobey orders, after all. Your astromech insists you made a mistake flying without him at the Battle of Endor and that you were lucky to survive. He further states that you are making the same mistake here, that you may not return this time, and that he will neither be surprised nor mourn you if you don't. He has figuratively washed his hands of the entire business.”

“Gee, thanks, Spot,” Tycho said dryly. “I appreciate you, too.”

The astromech blatted darkly and, though the protocol droid once again refused to translate, Tycho could about imagine.

It was their last exchange before he left.

There was no cinematic moment during his capture in which Tycho cursed himself for not listening to his droid. He was far too busy desperately trying to escape or initiate his self-destruct, both of which failed.

No, it wasn't until later, when Tycho had so much time to think, that Spot came back to his mind. In the terrifying quiet of Lusankya, during the long nights on Akrit'tar, in the cold grip of New Republic Intelligence, if Tycho wasn't mired in sheer despair or planning escape and revenge, he was considering his regrets. There were so many people he'd hurt and wounds that would be left open if his life ended now. Tycho promised himself, the Force, the galaxy at large, that if he survived, escaped, was let free, that he would start making things right.

On that near-endless list of regrets was Spot. Tycho realized the droid was his to take care of, to act as partner to, and he had never truly fulfilled that responsibility. He had never respected the astromech's feelings or opinions or really tried to understand him at all.

He would change that, Tycho vowed, and that would be most effective if he could talk to the droid on his own level, with no intermediary between them. So while he waited for NRI to be satisfied that they'd conducted enough fruitless questioning of him, Tycho requested Binary learning materials. At first, his attendants had seemed suspicious, but a few words about needing something to occupy his mind between sessions and learning a skill that might help him find a new career should he not be allowed to reenlist as a pilot seemed to sooth them enough.

So he learned. It was easier than he expected, which made him even more ashamed he hadn't tried it earlier. He learned, and he planned what he would say when he was reunited with Spot.

He hadn't planned on the first thing being a lie.

“No,” Tycho says now. “I'm sorry, Spot, that wasn't true” Tycho goes to his knees before the droid, ignoring the twinge of pain the movement causes in his still-healing body. “I did learn for you. I never listened to you enough before, and now I really can.”

Spot hesitates, then beeps a question.

“Yes, I'm listening now.”

The tirade starts up again, only marginally slower this time. Tycho manages to catch a few words here and there, but it's enough to get the gist: _I was right, stupid, dangerous, waited and worried, guilty, my fault-_

“Hey, whoa,” Tycho interrupts. “Buddy, what happened to me was not your fault.”

Spot beeps speculatively.

“I've really never called you that? Well, maybe it's a new thing. But don't change the subject. Listen: I don't blame you for any of this. There were reasons you couldn't, but I know how hard you would have fought to protect me if you could.”

Spot concurs in such an emphatic way it makes Tycho smile. Then the droid goes on to tell a story, slow and deliberate to give his human the best chance of understanding. After Tycho failed to report back from the Coruscant mission, a task force had been formed to study his disappearance and investigate any clues to his current whereabouts. They hadn't been interested in taking Spot on as a member since he possessed no key information or special skills. But he had insisted and essentially bullied his way onto the team by sheer annoyance. The act doesn't surprise Tycho, but the loyalty it represents does. He's beginning to understand that loyalty is another facet of Spot he'd never appreciated.

The story continues. Even if all Spot could do for the team was crunch numbers, he was determined to do so. Long after the biological members retired to their beds, Spot would remain in the office they'd been given, sifting and resifting what precious little data they had. When nothing of value could be found and the task force was disbanded, Tycho written off as one more MIA pilot, Spot had considered it a personal failure.

Tycho doesn't know how to respond. He's genuinely touched by the droid's care and determination and wishes he could convince him not to take the outcome so hard. He doubts even a thousand Spots would have been able to find Ysanne Isard's lair or the one-of-a-million prison planet she stashed him on after.

Not knowing how to put any of this into words, Tycho simply lays a hand on the droid and says, “I'm glad you tried, Spot. I kept telling myself people must be looking. I'm glad one of them was you.”

As Spot gives a pleased little trill, Tycho affectionately traces the stain on his dome that gave the droid his name. In one place, an unfamiliar line of carbon scoring crosses the outline, and Tycho frowns as he touches it.

“This wasn't here before.” His memory may be full of holes now, but he knows what his droid looked like last time he saw him.

Wedge clears his throat, and Tycho glances up at him.

“I take it he hasn't told you what happened while you were gone yet.”

“He mentioned the task force.”

“There's more.”

Tycho turns back to Spot curiously, but the droid whistles up at Wedge.

“He says you can tell it,” Tycho translates, lip quirking, “to give my brain a rest.”

Wedge smiles as he kneels to join them. “Very well. So after the task force was dissolved, Supply wanted to reassign Spot to another pilot. Keep him useful.”

Spot makes a rude sound at that, but quietly to minimize the interruption.

“Clearly he didn't take well to the idea,” Wedge goes on. “I was on that miserable victory tour at the time, and I got a comm from a tech begging me to help her. See, Spot had holed up in my old room and was using force when necessary to keep from being removed.” Wedge smiles, his eyes in the memory. “I believe she described him as 'like the angriest tooka you've ever seen but also with an arc welder and circular saw.' Anyway, he kept insisting on seeing me, so I agreed to come back. Any excuse to get away from that tour and just sitting on my hands day after day.”

“What did he want?” Tycho asks, looking between the two of them.

“He insisted if he couldn't go after you himself, the only person he would consent to be reassigned to was me. He explained how awful he felt about not being able to protect you, and since you had cared so much about me, he wanted to extend that protection to me on your behalf.

“I didn't know what to do at first. I wasn't flying, so I didn't need an astromech. Mine was reassigned when the Rogues were disbanded. But Spot was distraught, and I was...let's say, not doing well on my own either.”

Wedge pauses, emotion brimming in his eyes, and reaches for Tycho's hand, the warm contact confirmation that they really are back together now.

Fortified, Wedge continues. “He took good care of me. Cleaned and did repairs around my lodgings. Forced me out of bed on days I really didn't think I had the strength, even if it was just to shower or eat. Most of the time we were quiet, lost in our own heads I think, but sometimes we talked about you.” Wedge's expression lightens a bit. “We used a translator, of course, and I still have no working knowledge of Binary, but I do know the way he says your name.”

Wedge makes a trilling sound Tycho has heard many times before and never bothered to wonder about, and Spot squeals in delight.

“The carbon scoring?” Tycho prompts, squeezing Wedge's hand.

“I'm getting there. Eventually Command sent us on a couple of dew runs. I think they were tired of us moping around and took pity. Anyway, one turned out to be not so much a dew run, and Spot took one for the team. Really pulled me out of the fire doing it, too. Honestly, Tycho, I don't know what I would have done without him. Through any of it.”

Wedge runs a hand across Spot's dome, fonder than Tycho has ever seen him with most people, let alone a droid.

Tycho is overcome. The two of them had never gotten along. Spot had despised Wedge, seeing him as a distraction to Tycho, only respecting and obeying him out of necessity once he took command of the Rogues. And yet Tycho's absence had brought them together – a relationship Spot himself had initiated.

If Tycho had been speechless before, it was nothing compared to now. All he can do is throw his around around Spot, press his forehead to the droid's chassis, and whisper “_Thank you._”

Spot tweeps softly – _you're welcome_ – and his two manipulator arms press gently against Tycho's sides, the closest the droid can get to returning the hug.

After several long moments, Spot speaks again, and Tycho pulls back, smiling wetly. “You're right. I do need rest. But I'm glad I got to see you first.”

Spot agrees as Wedge rises and helps Tycho to his feet, steadying him when he groans in pain.

“You've been assigned a room, but I'm staying with you,” Wedge informs him. “Wild fathiers couldn't drag me away.”

Spot pipes up to state that he'll be keeping watch outside the door lest any unfortunates try to disturb Tycho's rest. When Tycho translates, Wedge agrees with the plan wholeheartedly.

Together they make their way to the room, and Tycho says goodbye to Spot at the door and promises to see him soon. Inside, the room is small and plain, but there's a bed very unlike the cot he slept in in NRI custody, and suddenly he feels every bit of his exhaustion.

Almost before he knows what's happening, he's dressed in soft sleep clothes Wedge has provided and under the covers in his partner's arms, the lights dimmed to almost nothing.

“I should change Spot's name,” Tycho muses sleepily. “He's always hated it, and he deserves something nicer after everything he's done.”

Wedge laughs softly. “We talked about that once. He actually doesn't mind; complaining about it is more of a running joke for him.”

“Huh. He's going to hate you for telling me.”

“Probably.”

“I really am glad you were together while I was gone,” Tycho says solemnly.

“We needed each other,” Wedge agrees. “Just like we needed you.”

“I'm here now.”

Wedge kisses his temple tenderly. “You're here now.”

“He's still my droid, though. I'm taking him back, and if you want to keep flying you'll have to get your own.”

Wedge chuckles, the sound warm and close and comforting in the dimness. “I wouldn't dream of keeping him from you, love.”


End file.
